


To the End

by britpop



Category: Blur
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 02:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2412332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britpop/pseuds/britpop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short fic based off the video for the song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the End

**Author's Note:**

> i've been working on this for a while now, unfortunately it isn't too long but i don't think it was meant to be.

Graham stands on the other side of the room, hands tucked into the pockets of his suit and examining the wall paper for the 100th time this minute. The floor is tiled like a checker board and Graham moves his shoes along them, listening to the quiet scraping noise it makes. Damon doesn't say a word, just fixes his stare onto one of the tiles and leans against the wall. 

Graham decides to break the silence. "Tonight's the last night, right, Damon?" He can't bare to look at his partner, he has a feeling that he'll have a fit if he looked into his eyes. 

This had been going on for a little over a year now, it began in April when they’d heard the news of the millionaire widow who’d moved in just down the street from them. Her husband, Howard Klein, had been murdered by an unknown person, shot point blank in the head. There had been no jewels stolen, no sign of forced entry, nothing was touched or changed in slightest. Only a hole in the head of a millionaire and a terrified wife.  
It was evident to the pair that the wife was the culprit the police were searching for, she spoke briefly about the loss of husband and almost excessively about the large sum of property and money she would be coming into as a result of her husband's untimely death. It was almost as if she was bragging, her eyes lit up like diamonds as she continued at length about the royalties before she was ushered off camera by a lawyer.

Damon and Graham had settled down in front of the television set, mismatched chairs side by side and eyes glued to the screen.  
"This is so ridiculous," Damon had commented with a roll of his eyes.  
"Tell me about it." Graham replied, "I mean. It was so obviously her."  
"Obviously." He repeated.  
"'nd she's got a solid motive, too! Her husband was stinkin' rich, with 'm outta the picture it's all her's, y'know?" He looked over at Damon, who's chewing on his fingernails, in deep thought. "It's all her's now.. All those big houses and all that cash, all h-"  
"Our's, Graham." Damon cut in, turning to Graham. "It's all ours, or, it can be." 

The plan was fairly simple, throw a rock into a window and disguise Damon as a window repairman. Once inside, he was to charm his way into staying and the two would soon become friends. Then, after he'd gained her trust, he'd convince her to leave everything to him and then Graham would step in and finish it all. If no one suspected her to be her husband's murderer, then certainly no one would suspect a window repairman or the quiet boy down the street to be her's. It was a fool proof plan, there was absolutely no way she could see through his lies. Damon had excitedly commented; "I didn't study theatre for nothin'!" Which shed some positive light on the situation. 

She was Isabella, tall and slender, about twenty years his senior but still acted like she was 21. A true eccentric, lively and graceful in every way. Just as naive as a twenty-one year old, too.  
Many times she'd beg him to stay the night with her, explaining that it just got so lonely without her husband by her side, and of course he had to oblige. Leaving Graham alone in their bedroom, staring out the window at the large, Victorian styled mansion just a few houses down, worrying about Damon's whereabouts. He knew, though, that all these lonely nights would pay off some day, so he keeps quiet and went with it. 

But now they're here, and this whole ordeal can finally be over. And now they can leave this city and start a new life elsewhere.

Damon finally raises his head to look at Graham and their eyes meet. Damon's got his hands tucked into his pant pockets, anxiously watching Graham.  
"The last night." He repeats.  
Graham moves forwards quickly, eyes widening a bit. "You promise, right? One hundred percent sure?"  
"Yes, Graham." He hisses in reply, stepping closer. "I've already gotten her to write down my name, alright? Now will you keep your voice down for Christ's sake?"  
"Yes, yes." He nods and steps back, looking down again. "I'm sorry, Damon." 

He runs his fingers through his hair, gaze softening as he observes the change in Graham's body language.  
"No, I'm sorry." Damon meets Graham in the middle of the room, placing a hand on his hip and pulling him closer. "I'm just really on the edge, you understand, it's a big day and.." He trails off. "I just don't want anything to be ruined. I want - no, need - everything to be absolutely perfect. That way we can finally be happy, just you and me in paradise."  
Damon tilts Graham's chin up with one of his fingers, looking into Graham's eyes again. "I need us to be happy." He says.  
"I want to be happy, Damon." His voice is small and quivering, on the verge of breaking.  
"We will be, I promise." He brings their lips together, eyes fluttering shut. 

It's been so long since they've last held each other like this. Damon misses the closeness, misses listening to Graham's heartbeat and running his fingers along the curves of his dainty body. He misses Graham and everything about him. He wishes he could just scoop Graham up and run off into the sunset, but it just isn't that easy.  
"Damon? Oh, Damon, dear!" Damon hears the faint sound of heels clicking against the marble stairs, and immediately pulls away.  
"Just a minute, Isa! Stay in your bedroom, alright? I'll be there in a bit!  
Graham begins shaking, not sure where to hide if she walks in. "Damon, Damon." He whispers as quietly as possible.  
The clicking stops. "You're not smoking are you, Damon? You know how much I hate it when you smoke."  
Damon presses a fingertip to Graham's lips, "Oh you caught me!" He laughs nervously, "Go back to your bedroom, I'm almost done!"  
She makes a 'tsk' sound before heading back up to her bedroom. Graham catches a glimpse of her shadow on the tiled floor as she walks back upstairs, which causes his anxiety to skyrocket. 

"Damon, I don't think I can do this." He begins, holding onto Damon's jacket. "What if I miss? What if I get caught?"  
A puzzled expression forms on Damon's face. "First of all, how do you miss if you've got the gun to 'er head? And -"  
"I don't _know_ , Damon!" He slams down his foot on the ground and Damon curses underneath his breath.  
"Fuck, Graham. Oh my god."  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He rubs his temples and lowers his head, closing his eyes tightly.  
"Look, honey, sweetie, darling." He places both hands on his shoulders and brings their foreheads together. "You're gonna do just fine, I promise. Just think of happy, okay? Happy."  
"Happy." He mumbles.  
"Happy." He repeats.

"I need to go up, okay? You'll be fine. I love you." He places a quick kiss on the top of his forehead and is out the door in seconds. 

 

Isabelle is sitting on the floral patterned chair in front of her large vanity, carefully applying her makeup. She smiles widely as Damon appears in the reflection, sheepishly watching her. The only light in the room is coming from the lights above the mirror, which cast a long shadow that stretches out to Damon's feet.  
"I know it's late," she begins. "But at times I feel like prettying up anyway. Makes me feel younger, like I'm beautiful again."  
"You're already beautiful, Isa." His voice his calm, demeanor appearing relaxed.  
Her smiles widens. "You're too sweet to me, Damon."  
"Nonsense," he replies quickly. "I only tell the truth."  
"Nothing but the truth?" She asks.  
"Nothing but the truth." 

He can faintly hear Graham's gentle footsteps make their way up the stair case, nearer and nearer still.  
Isabelle slides the lid on her lipstick, examining her face in many different angles, pursing her lips and pouting.  
He can feel Graham behind him, just outside the door and he tenses.  
"Awfully stunning." He compliments, biting down on his bottom lip.  
She shuts her eyes, taking a deep breath. Her skinny fingers are over her heart, basking in the bright lights aimed down on her. Imagining herself as a famous actress.

Damon steps aside, allowing access for Graham to enter the bedroom. The floors creak slightly as he moves slowly to the woman. He tries his best not to look into the mirror, to not put a face to the name. It's easier to pretend that the person he'll be killing isn't really a person at all, just a dummy of some sort. A puppet, maybe.  
But as he holds the gun steady he catches a quick glimpse of her reflection and instantly the guilt sets it. However, before he can allow it to consume him..  
He presses the gun against her skull, and quickly pulls the trigger.


End file.
